How High I Can Fly
by ElizaCarr
Summary: Pam's thoughts on why she quit during the episode, "Two Weeks."


**Hey there. So, I haven't written on here in a while, and by "in a while" I mean so long that I couldn't remember the password or e-mail for my old account. That said, this is a story I've had floating in my head since I re-watched the episode, "Two Weeks." I hope you enjoy it. **

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Damn copier. I wouldn't even have to be doing this if we didn't have so many incompetent people working in this office.

Okay, that was a little harsh, sorry. I'm just a little frustrated right now. We had a new copier delivered to the office, because the old one had been through "normal wear and tear," which is my way of saying there had been one too many coffee spills and cat (yes, cat) entanglements for a machine's liking. So we finally qualified for a new copier, which is great, we need it, and that means that Jim can go back to making his own copies. However, there is a downside…I'm the one who has to put the new copier together. Put it together, figure out how it works, and make sure it stays working that way.

The way things are going, however, I don't really see me doing this; between my own inability to figure out the functions of various parts of the machine and Dwight's very helpful German mutterings I am more likely to have the thing blow up in my face then put together a working machine that the whole office can use.

Forget this.

I smacked the machine with my palm and stood up feeling disheartened, over a copier no less. With a sigh, I walked towards the break room. I stared listlessly at the vending machine, trying to decide which item would offer me the right amount of mental acuity to finish the job I had before me. I was still trying to decide when Jim walked in with an amused look on his face.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing...just Michael wanting to go in business for himself. A paper business. Oh. And he wanted me to go with him."

I snorted. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of Michael for quitting, this company does take advantage of him. But seriously, what is he going to do? Start a fledgling paper company in a failing industry? Yeah, he can be good with customers, but….that's about it. Not much business sense and not much knowledge outside the paper industry.

"Well, it's Michael, what else do you expect him to do?" I responded.

"True. So how's the copy machine coming along?"

"Oh, just great; Dwight is teaching it to speak German." I sighed, "This is just ridiculous, I'm not a copier tech, I shouldn't be doing this. I'm a…receptionist…putting together copier machines doesn't fall under my very specific skill set."

Jim smiled at me, "Well lucky for you, while assembly a large, angry machine may not be what you have been trained for, I have no doubt that you will conquer it. You can do anything you put your mind to, Pam."

I like the faith he has in me, misguided or not, so I smiled weakly at him and headed back to the machine. An hour later I was finished! I stood staring…I'd actually put together the whole thing AND learned how to work it. I grinned triumphantly and turned to announce my victory.

"Attention! This is the moment you have all been waiting for…"

A red light flashed. Shit. Error, "G-44."

I exhaled deeply and turned back to the manual. I flipped through the pages, pressed a couple of buttons and stared again, okay this time…it had to be finished. I called Phyllis over to copy something. It worked! I put the machine together by myself! Jim was right. I can do…anything; or more specifically, I can walk you through this machine, inside and out, show you all the buttons, error messages, and even do a bound book, in plastic, with offset colors. Which feels…depressing. What am I ever going to do with that information? I mean after I leave here of course. Because I am leaving here, I won't be working here forever, I swear. I'm going to find something better, something that means something. Maybe I'll quit right now! And go sell…art supplies…

A wave of fear hit me in the chest.

I stared off into space thinking about how I got here in life; how I have become the quintessential Dunder Mifflin receptionist. That wave of fear was turning into a brick as I heard a commotion start in Michael's office. I looked up to see that Michael Scott, long time loyal employee of this paper company was being forced to advocate his paper throne for "starting" a competing paper company. Seriously? They're going to make him leave early for that? The Michael Scott Paper Company is not going to be a threat to anyone, just let him live out his last two weeks. But no, Miner is going to kick Michael to the curb in order to show his own "dominance."

I sighed as Michael walked out through the door, not even allowed to give a closing speech, while yes, it would be annoying, would have given him some closure. I glanced around the office and was suddenly struck by the mundane atmosphere of it all. Is this really all we're doing? And wow, did Michael's presence really make that much of a difference? Yeah, he can be an idiot, and yes, he adds stress and awkward situations t our lives, but was it really _him_ that took away the routine element of this job? I think that may be the most depressing thing I've thought all day.

I took another look around the office as I saw Jim sigh and point down to the floor; I heard a noise and peeked over the counter. Michael Scott had returned, he was sliding across the floor. I didn't know whether to be amused or saddened by this sight.

Michael slithered over to Jim's desk to implore him to co-found the Michael Scott Paper Company. Jim again, refused, which is the sensible, logical response to that offer. Michael finally gave up on Jim and pulled himself up into a sitting position outside the conference room. He looked at the rest of us pleadingly; he started talking the way Michael does, by saying whatever flies into his head first. He wanted the rest of us to crawl out the door with him, to start on this new adventure with him. Ludicrous. I don't often use that word, but that idea was ludicrous.

But then he said it, "C'mon! Are you doing your best here? Are you being the best you can be?"

I froze. No, I'm not. I'm a _receptionist_. Today, I put together a copier. I thought about Jim's earlier claim that I can do anything I put my mind to, and now Michael is asking if I'm doing the best in life. Okay, so Michael wasn't asking me directly and he was talking out of his ass, and about a minute after his impassioned speech, he tried to drag Phyllis' chair out with him…

But that's irrelevant. I'm NOT being the best I can be. I answer phones, I make copies. It's mundane, I go home feeling like I have accomplished nothing, and I have been doing this for _years_. What if I went with Michael, what if I helped start a business, who the hell cares if it fails? I could be a salesperson…I could try something new…

Oh, shit.

Adrenaline started pumping through me, and I was scared, but now it wasn't terror, it was just fear of the unknown, but at the same time, it was a beautiful excitement. I was going to go with him. I was going to go with Michael Scott and start a paper company. I stared after him; Miner had kicked him out once again, ass hat.

Okay, okay. I'm doing this.

I stood up.

I did it.

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**Please let me know what you thought, as I said, I haven't written anything in a while, so I could use the feedback. Also, Pam cusses a little more in my head than she does on the show.**


End file.
